Of Pies and Prats
by SapphireMistress
Summary: Arthur's a busy restaurant owner who just wants his quality espresso, and absolutely has no time for the ramblings of a weird cafe boy. But nonetheless, he should make time-he really, really should.


Of Pies and Prats

Chapter 1

Rhythmic thumps echoed throughout the room, sending puffs of flour everywhere. Little crinkles of silverware chime, along with humming machines and whistling kettles; a grand mechanical symphony only heard at the early hours of the day, when the clouds are still tufts of cotton candy pink, purple grape, and citrus orange.

When the clouds are fluffy white meringues against a blueberry sky, the mechanical symphony dwindles. It is then replaced by warm jukebox tunes, clickety-clack of heeled shoes, bumping of purses and satchels, and sing-song chatter.

After the OPEN sign glows, some people buzz about and form a beeline to the counter. They place their orders upon a tall, young man with slender popsicle limbs, messy liquorice hair, angled and rosy cheekbones, and stunning minty-blue eyes that sparkle at every person he encounters.

People sit on fancy heart-backed chairs, resting their arms on cozy wooden tables while waiting for what they ordered. Some tap their feet on the smooth chequered floor, many open their virtual world and get lost in the world wide web, others chit chat with friends, some just look out the window and watch the busy streets.

No matter who it is that's in the room or what their mood is, a frown is never to be seen. They say it's because of the welcoming young man and vibrant servers; while others say it's the homely atmosphere-but one thing they can agree for certain is; it's probably because their orders are so delectable, all of their worries are wiped away like magic.

Today, however, is a different day.

A blonde man in a strait-laced suit rushes in, a deep frown set in his square features. He grumbles something about 'boring, spontaneous meetings', 'unreliable secretaries that want to get in my trousers', and 'stupid need for quality espresso'.

He's too concerned about his grumbling that he didn't notice it's his turn to order.

"Um sir? Your order, please?" The young man asks, leaning over, his brows slightly knitting.

The blonde looks up, comically bumping heads with the lad in front of him.

Girly giggles, a grumpy growl and a light laugh follows suit.

"My bad, sorry" the young man smiles apologetically.

"Just get me an espresso. And make it quick..._Merlin_" the other grumbles, taking note of the lad's name. The blonde decides for the better to stay away from him.

"Alright, sir. It'll be there in a few" the lad-Merlin-grins as he sets off to work his magic and prepare the espresso.

The man sits in a lonely corner by the window, drumming calloused fingers on the table. He waits and tries not to think of the dread of going back to his too-musky, crowded, and cramped office.

He's saved from the thought by the enticing aroma of frothed cream and roasted beans, somehow bringing a soft upward tug to his lips.

"Here you are- special espresso, just for you." Merlin smiles and sets a cupcake-shaped mug down on the table, receiving an eye roll from the blonde.

As if reading the man's gesture, Merlin shrugs it off, "What, it's a cute mug." his statement receiving a raised eyebrow from the other.

"Don't deny it, I saw you smiling when you saw the cup." The young man presses on, a cheeky grin coming onto his lips.

"That was for my drink, not the cup."

"Just admit you like the cup and I'll be gone."

"How about no tips if you don't stop?" the man pinches the bridge of his nose, slightly getting annoyed by the lad's teasing.

"Don't need one, trust me" Merlin chuckles, a smirk plastered on his cream-white face.

"Oh and here," he sets down mismatched china with a generous slice of key lime pie and hands him a dainty dessert fork, "On the house, for your forehead" Merlin laughs.

The first sip of the espresso was heavenly; coffee beans perfectly roasted and blended with the right sweetness of cream and milk, fluffy clouds of froth tickling his taste buds.

"Maybe I should bump heads with you more often" the blonde chuckles, the well-made beverage setting him off into a better mood already.

"Nah. If you're going to act like a prat after you bump your head, then please don't" Merlin teases, easily slipping into casual conversation.

"It's Arthur to you, not prat." the man-Arthur-said through a mouthful of rough and crumbly pie crust- sweet and salty, creamy and tangy; the mix of flavours and textures in the pie mixing together perfectly.

"Well then, Arthur, I'll leave you to your pie...you seem to be enjoying it. If you need anything, I'll be over the counter" with a wink and quirky salute, Merlin left to tend to the rest of the little world's sugar and caffeine needs.

Merlin's a little odd, Arthur thinks. Weird with his unusual name (and really, who names their child after an old geezer?) gangly limbs and _really_ mousey ears, Irish drawl, and the way his charm just seems to appeal to everybody and make them feel at ease. Arthur chuckles to himself, a weight suddenly-somehow-lifted off of his chest just by that very normal and bizarre conversation he just had; being treated normally for once.

That plan of staying away didn't quite work out.

Maybe he'll ask for some more pie, he's running out anyway.

Maybe more pie and weird conversations.

* * *

An: Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! If you want to leave reviews or critiques or suggestions, it would be very much welcome. Thank you!


End file.
